Page 4 of Tides of Fate (Fated in the Stars #3)

“Well, I never,” Nix says with a huff. “Jamie, how could you be so rude? Those lovely people are your family. Your mate’s mothers; and I don’t know about you but I don’t have any family, and I do not want to alienate them.” Nix crosses his arms over his chest, pointedly looking anywhere but at Jamie.

Jamie takes a deep breath and regrets it immediately.

He can smell Leo, Lauren, and tinges of stale vanilla from Nix’s clothes, but Nix’s fresh scent is still blank, and it agitates his wolf like mad. “Nix, I’m sorry. Hey…do you think you could turn it back on again?” Jamie will not be ashamed of how that quaver in his voice makes it sound like he’s begging.

“Turn what on?” As he says it, he lifts his nose. “Sorry, that’s not fair, is it? I can smell you all smokey-and-sad, but you can’t smell me all burnt-cookies-and-mad.”

The flood of angry vanilla in the car makes Jamie swerve. “Shit. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s me who should be sorry. Do you think I could learn to do that on purpose?” Nix asks.

Jamie opens the window a little to let some fresh air in, and breathes a sigh of relief. Angry vanilla is better than no vanilla, but it’s a little too much in the small, enclosed space.

“I don’t know. But when you do it, every Were in the vicinity can tell. Until you can wear blockers, it’s going to be a dead giveaway that you’re extra special. Like, more than you would be by just being you.”

Nix gives him a small smile and reaches for Jamie’s hand. He’s so grateful Nix is quick to forgive because Jamie feels like he’s been scrambling to be on someone’s good side the last few days. Even his own.

“That’s what had Leo’s moms looking so curious when we left? Oh, geez. I guess Antonio hasn’t told them. I mean, I thought maybe he would, even if he’s not supposed to. It’s nice that I—we can trust him, right?” The surprise in Nix’s voice speak volumes.

He’d woken to find Luca sitting at the end of his bed, already dressed, expression tight.

Luca had been working on forgiving him for his alpha bullshit, he’d said, but he needed to see Ruthie stat, or someone was going to die.

Jamie had understood immediately that that someone was him .

Ruthie hadn’t been surprised to see Jamie, but she had been surprised to hear he was the reason they were there. It hadn’t taken long for Luca to become irate, mocha scent causing the therapist’s nostrils to flare and leaving Jamie to try to temper down his own from a smoky blaze.

He hadn’t wanted to hear that his actions in the gym had shaken Luca’s trust in him. Jamie had been behaving in ways that were unpredictable and unfamiliar, and it was unsettling Luca’s equilibrium.

For the first time since they’d met, Luca couldn’t trust that Jamie was thinking about the pack—about Luca—and not about himself.

He had spent too many years with an alpha who thought he knew best for Luca. And now Jamie was doing the same damn thing.

When Ruthie asked how that made him feel, Jamie had been furious .

“What a stupid fucking question,” he’d snapped at her.

She’d let him rage. Let him curse. Then, when he burned himself out, she’d asked again. Why?

It had been like a light switching on.

Jamie was angry because he was Luca’s alpha. Because he loved him beyond reason. Because he hadn’t been there to protect him. And because Luca still carried scars from the things Jamie hadn’t stopped.

Jamie carried the guilt of so many things—the list would be a mile long, single-spaced, no margins.

And at the very top of that list? Phoenix Rena .

It hadn’t been hard to make the leap to Nix. Jamie had been supposed to save him. He should have taken him with him when he left. He shouldn’t have believed his parents’ lies.

He should have looked for him .

But he hadn’t. Not once.

The pendant had worked against them. Fine. But Jamie hadn’t even tried. He should have known that agony he was feeling wasn’t grief but Nix’s pain.

He can’t breathe.

The weight of his guilt presses down, crushing his ribs, squeezing his lungs. Black spots bloom in his vision because he’s going to fail again.

Nix is going to die.

The thought slams into him, cold and certain. The pain suddenly unbearable, clawing up his throat, choking him.

“Hey, Jamie. Hey. You’re all right. Here, let’s pull in there. Come on, babe, I cannot drive this thing. Or anything, for that matter.”

In a moment of clarity, Jamie spots the empty Church of The Goddess Divine parking lot on his right, and without a second thought, turns in—the front of the car bumping onto the green lawn. He throws the Genesis into park and stumbles out of the driver’s seat, lungs burning.

Jamie can hear his mate’s flustered voice calling behind him, “Jamie! Fuck—shit—dammit! Keys…Nix…doors. Wait up!”

Jamie barely registers it. He’s already moving across the lawn, the weight of his panic too big for the car, too big for his chest.

By the time Nix catches up, Jamie is standing by a small grove of willow trees that hang down over a decorative pond, and he has the urge to throw himself into the turquoise waters—just to feel something other than his fear.

Because that seems like all he’s really felt today: first at Ruthie’s, then when they’d arrived back home to find Grayson lying unconscious on the path from the art house, and then again when no one could find Nix and Leo.

The fear had been too much, and with Jamie’s wolf howling, he had torn through the house looking for his omega. Gideon’s sharp slap had brought him back to himself—the pain had gotten the wolf under control, but not the pernicious fear.

Jamie once again feels that fear pushing his wolf to the forefront.

“Jamie. What are you doing? Are you sick?”

Nix comes up behind him and throws his thin arms around his waist, rubbing his nose into the back of Jamie’s shirt. It keeps him here, but it’s a struggle.

Why is everything such a struggle?

“I’m fucking petrified. Not mad or sick or pissed off. I am terrified and I can’t get it to stop. Oh, Goddess, I want it to stop.”

He breaks away, dislodging Nix’s arms when he feels his mate squeeze harder in comfort—a comfort that Jamie doesn’t deserve.

Luca was right. He’d been a shit pack alpha, weak and motivated by fear, willing to do unspeakable things just to get his way. He didn’t deserve them, any of them—but most especially his Nix.

A magical, beautiful creature who was currently standing with his hands on his narrow hips, glaring.

Had he said that all out loud? Shit.

It makes him want to hide with the shame of it all, but he can’t leave his omega out here in the open, unprotected. He has so much to make up for—he can at least do that.

So, instead, he crouches low and hides his face in his arms.

If he can’t see Nix, maybe Nix can’t see him.

What? It works for toddlers.

He hears a sigh, then soft footsteps in the grass, and a flood of soothing vanilla rolls over him.

Nix drops down beside him, tipping Jamie over so they’re both sitting, feet nearly touching the calm, clear water of the pond.

“Jamie, look at me.” His mate’s voice is deep and soft.

Jamie can’t deny him anything, no matter how much he wants to right now.

Warmth surges around his heart as Nix leans in and kisses him softly .

“I’m sorry I’m fucking this up, Nix.”

“You are a bit—but not in the way you think. You couldn’t be further from the truth. There is no way Luca said you were a terrible alpha. Not possible, because my baby is wise and observant and, above all, an excellent judge of character.”

Nix smiles, but Jamie will not be swayed.

“And as far as deserving anyone goes, well, we all have a say in that, don’t we?”

“You have to admit that I handled your…accident yesterday pretty badly.”

Jamie has long since stopped blaming Gideon for Nix’s injury. Gideon would never have hurt their mate on purpose. But that isn’t even what had made Jamie so angry.

No—it was that Nix had been hurt at all.

And now, he was opening himself up to even more hurt. To someone far worse—someone who wanted to hurt him and worse.

Gideon was just holding the door open so Hayes could waltz in and take Nix from him. Again.

And he’s doing it at Nix’s request.

“He’s going to take you from me again, and I can’t—how am I going to do this life without you? When I thought you were gone before, I tried to have a good life. I love all of them so much. They saved me,” Jamie chokes the words out past the lump in his throat.

“But there was always this black hole where I knew you should have been. Where you could have been if I’d made different choices. And when I found you again—”

They both know what he’s not saying, and Jamie can’t get the words out. They’re too fresh.

He whispers the next words, “It will kill me.”

It’s not an exaggeration. Jamie will let the wolf take over for good, and he will burn the world down, dying at the end of a police showdown.

Nix’s eyes go wide before he looks away, his gaze on something Jamie can’t see—isn’t sure he wants to. It’s quiet in the aftermath of Jamie’s confession, with only the sound of the water lapping at the edge of the pond disturbing the uncomfortable silence.

“I won’t do it, then.”

Jamie’s relief is so strong it drowns out everything else.

Nix won’t meet his torturer on a field of battle and fight to the death?

He looks dead serious when he says the words, and if Jamie were anything but relieved, he’d have noticed the dull delivery—the absence of vanilla and how his beautiful gray eyes lose their light.

He’d have noticed how Nix’s shoulders sag just slightly, how his hands go slack at his sides like he’s letting go of something he hadn’t realized he was holding on to.

But the burst of joy Jamie experiences is visceral. He has visions of Nix safe on the sidelines while he or Gideon takes Hayes’s heart. It’s not a new vision—Jamie has imagined it any number of ways. Always with Nix safe with his mates, and Jamie or Gideon down on the field, bloody in triumph.

Nix would be safe and healthy. Nix would be free to be his happy self, always smiling and gentle, untarnished by the horrible memories of Hayes in his life and on the field.

He’d be his old self, and Jamie wanted that more than anything.

“Oh fuck, Nix. Really?” Jamie knows he sounds ridiculously excited and happy.

“Yes. If…you are so unhappy, I will…just stay at home. I can do that for you. The others will be happier too, I’m sure. Gideon wanted to do it, anyway. It will be fine. Good, even.”

Nix stands and brushes off his pants, pasting on a horrible, fake smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Can we go home, Jay? I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”

Jay? Did his Nix just call him Jay? The name lands like a punch to the gut.

Nix has never—not once, in the whole time they have known each other—called him anything but Jamie or James.

Jamie had just let himself feel like he could be Jamie again. After he’d locked that boy away under mountains of grief. After he’d been given this second chance with the love of his life.

“No, it’s okay. I mean, what was I thinking, right? I might be strong, but he’s cruel,” Nix chuckles, and it’s not in amusement. “Always knew how to make it hurt worse—made me wish I were dead, you know?”

Pacing, he digs his hands into his hair and pulls roughly.

“Made me think I didn’t deserve you. Not that he said your name or anything, but he reminded me I’m just weak and stupid. What was I thinking? It’s a good thing you stopped me.”

He trips, and when Jamie moves to catch him, Nix recoils.

Jamie thinks this might be the worst thing to ever happen to him.

What has he done?

Had he heard a single word Ruthie said today?

Even after all that talk about how fear rewires your brain, how it changes the way you see reality.

They’d spoken about how important it was for Jamie’s pack to make their own choices. How everything he’d told Grayson and Nix—in the beginning—had been right. How he’d said they deserved to make their own choices. That he could master his fear, not the other way around.

Only for him to jump at the first chance to wipe that fear away—and at Nix’s expense.

Jamie hasn’t really changed at all, has he? He’s still stuck in the same cycle.

Fear, dominance, fear—around and around like a demented, not-so- merry -go-round.

Jamie just wants off. He needs to get off before he takes his family down with him.

Gideon, spirit crushed, standing in the gym.

Luca, curled on the other end of Ruthie’s couch, small again—so small—because of Jamie.

Rowan, usually so animated, now stone-faced and closed-off.

Even Grayson, their normally serene Grayson, manically throwing cosmetics into a basket at the store, angry at him and at life.

But it’s the glimpses of Finn, slipping through the house like a ghost on the edge of their life.

And Leo—his unshakable Leo—who had only wanted a single afternoon alone with his mate, ending his bonding day looking guilty and sad .

It is his bonding day, for fuck’s sake—and Jamie had let his fear ruin what should be one of the happiest days for any Were.

Jamie can’t let any of them continue like this.

This is not the pack leader or mate he wants to be.

Jamie will not let this be the man he is.

He won’t.

“Nix. I’m sorry. I was wrong to say that you shouldn’t do this or to ask you to give it up—”

“No, Jay, you are right. So very right. I should be more afraid. Why have I forgotten to be afraid?

“You only know a fraction of what he did to me. There was that long list of broken bones your friend told me about, right? And I almost lost an eye, for fuck’s sake. That should be bad enough.”

Nix looks him in the eye, finally.

“You heard the doctor. Dawson raped me, over and over. Every day for a month that first year. Every day. And then whenever he wanted me, as a treat for himself afterward.

“He said that—did I ever tell you? It was a reward he’d give himself for a job well done.

“And when I stopped crying and begging—because he liked it—he would only try harder.

“What if he tries to do that again? What if I fail, and he walks away?”

There is agony written on Jamie’s beloved mate’s face—a kind he has never seen before, but one he will remember forever.

“What if he tries to hurt Luca?”

Nix’s voice is resigned, and his scent is suddenly scorching.

He’s no longer suppressing it—not distanced from the avalanche of emotions, but drowning in them.

And somehow, that makes it worse.

“No. I don’t deserve to do this. I didn’t try to leave. Not more than one or two times. Even that last night. I knew I could love Finn, and I went ba…fuck—”

A loud, wrecked sob breaks free as he falls to his knees. Jamie moves to help him, but Nix throws out a hand, halting him.

“No! Let me…let me finish.” His voice cracks, and Jamie can see the weight of it bearing down.

“I knew I could love Finn. I knew he would help me. And I still didn’t leave. What is wrong with me? I don’t deserve vengeance, because it’s all my fucking fault. And I don’t deserve you. Any of you.”

Only once since Nix has been awake—despite all the news, both good and bad—has he cried. Not a single tear since.

But now, he sounds like he might never stop.

Jamie approaches him slowly, tears running down his own face, and he opens his arms. Nix shakes his head, the cries turning into loud wails of despair, and he won’t let Jamie console him.

His sweet boy thinks he doesn’t deserve comfort.

“Baby. Please,” he whispers, and he knows Nix can hear him because he’s just shaking his head.

Nix is leaning toward him, though, and Jamie hopes he’s not about to make the situation worse. “I’m going to hug you now.” He slowly wraps his arms around his trembling mate, and Nix finally lets him, thank the Goddess.

Please help him. If you’re listening, please. He’s so good, and I know I fu—er—messed this up. But he needs you. Please help me say the right things.

Jamie will deny it later, but a sense of calm settles over him like a cool breeze. It pushes out his fear and soothes his hysterical wolf. He rubs his mate’s back, and for who knows how long, they sit in the setting sun while Jamie rocks him gently. Finally, Nix’s whimpers fade to tears and hitching breaths.

Jamie sees who Nix really is at that moment—not as he was when he was younger, the sunshine-y boy brimming with all the potential he should have been. Not the man Jamie had desperately wanted to see, confident, sassy, and easygoing.

Right now, Jamie sees the boy broken into a million little pieces, and he realizes that no amount of love is going to put him back together the same way. It doesn’t matter if Jamie knows how the pieces should fit; if Nix doesn’t put them together himself, they will never hold in a way he can live with.

Jamie needs to let Nix figure out how he’s going to live the rest of his life as this person Hayes shattered into fragments—how to remake himself with what’s left. The only way Nix is going to do that—and what he’s been telling them all since the beginning—is if he can prove to himself that he isn’t as weak as Hayes made him believe, that he is deserving of loving his mates and being loved in return.

No matter that they do, anyway.

“Nix. I was wrong. So wrong. It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault but Hayes’s. You are so strong. I understand now. I’m the one who is weak and afraid. We can do this together, yeah? I was so very wrong to try to make you give this up. You told me why, and I’m so sorry I didn’t listen.” Jamie isn’t ashamed to beg for Nix’s forgiveness, not now and not ever.

“We are going to work together, and I can’t promise I still won’t be afraid for you. I will always love you that much. But if we do this together…if we’re in this life together, no matter what…then I think I can be brave—not as brave as you, but maybe a little.”

Nix sighs, rubbing the place on his own chest where Jamie is hurting, too. “Will you take me home, Jamie? Grayson needs me, and I don’t want him to hurt any longer.”

Jamie picks him, holding him close to his chest, and Nix curls into his throat.

The short drive home is silent, and when they pull into the garage, Nix reaches for the handle of the car door—but hesitates. At least he’s not running away, even though Jamie would understand if he did. They have such a long way to go.

“If you think I’m strong enough, I think I can still do this. Do you think you can help me?”

He meets Jamie’s eyes, and when Jamie nods, he nods back. It’s a pact of sorts.

Jamie moves around the car to meet him, and Nix offers his hand. There’s a glimmer of trust again in the way he does it—confidence that Jamie will always be there to grasp it and hold on tight. It’s not forgiveness. Jamie will have to earn that. But it is a start.

Nix had promised he would never leave him, that they had already won—and Jamie has to believe that to be true.